Solstice
by royza-hawkstang
Summary: Things change quickly in a warzone. One minute, you're looking for a friend, and the next, they have a bullet in them. Hint of Royza. T for mention of blood/violence. Oneshot for Christmas.


_A short oneshot for Christmas, and my first published FMA-related fan writing! A couple things to explain: 1) I choose to say 'Royza' rather than 'Royai.' It just makes more sense to me. 2) I chose to have them celebrate the Winter Solstice rather than Christmas because in their world, Christianity doesn't exist, rendering the holiday nonexistant as well. No offence intended._

_Enjoy!_

He jogged among the tents, the small package in his pocket bouncing against his leg with every step. Roy's eyes kept moving, scanning faces as he went, looking for one in particular.

"Hey! Roy!" A hand shot up from a group of people around a campfire, waving to get his attention. Slowing to a walk, Roy diverted his path toward it as Maes Hughes stood up. "Where's the fire?" the bespectacled man grinned. "You look like a man on a mission."

"Not really," the alchemist shrugged. "I was just looking for Hawkeye. I don't suppose you've seen her?"

"Mmmmm, can't say I have," Maes mused, rubbing his chin with one hand. Behind his glasses, hazel eyes glinted as an obviously sly thought occurred to him. "Saaaaaaay . . . . just why are you looking for that little lady, hmm? Did a girl finally catch some serious interest from you?"

Roy's face was as blank as his friend's was mischievous. "I have something for her, that's all. I'll see you later." He moved to brush past the other man, but his arm was seized before he made it.

"Looking for a certain girl, and carrying a present for her, too . . . ." Maes said suspiciously, peering closely at Roy. "And tonight's Solstice Eve, isn't it . . . ." He broke into a grin. "You hoping for a kiss or two under the mistletoe?"

Jerking free, Roy scowled at him. "You idiot, she's a junior officer; like I'd risk the fraternization charges. I'm not stupid." Turning on his heel, he stalked off, trying to ignore Maes' kissy-noises from behind him.

It was a fairly safe bet that if Hawkeye wasn't in her tent, or the mess tent, and Maes hadn't seen her around, then she was on guard duty. Turning toward the camp's eastern perimeter, Roy picked up his pace again, heading for her usual post.

He hadn't gone more than five steps before gunfire rang out ahead.

* * *

><p>Her right hand told her it was clutching her left upper arm, but the only feeling coming from that area was intense pain. Riza gritted her teeth, curling in on herself as she struggled to breathe. She felt other hands on her shoulders, pressing her to lie back on the ground; heard voices shouting for her to let go of the wound, to breathe, to let the medic examine her.<p>

One pair of hands touched her face; her eyes opened to an upside-down view of Major Roy Mustang. ". . . S-sir . . . ."

"Steady; let the medic do his job," he said, tilting his chin toward the man waiting at her side. "Let go of your arm."

Shutting her eyes tight again, Riza forced her fingers to relax and her hand to move. Almost instantly, she felt seeping wetness on her sleeve; she bit her lip at the sensation.

"Superficial, but still painful," the medic said quietly. "The bullet is still in the wound; it'll need to be surgically removed. Litter!"

Pressure was applied to the wound, and Riza dared to open her eyes, though she kept them firmly away from her injury. She could smell the blood; she certainly didn't want to see it. Looking up at the Major instead, she gave a grim smile. "It'll take more than one lucky shot to finish me, sir. I'll be all right."

"You bet you will," Mustang replied, just as grimly. "I don't have duty for twelve hours; I'll stay with you."

"That's not necess—"

"Yes, it is," he said tightly, as two corpsmen set a stretcher down next to her. "No arguing."

* * *

><p>He was waiting in the rickety, so-called "post-operative ward," set as far back from the front lines as the camp would allow, when Hawkeye was assisted in. She was on her feet, though her good arm was slung around the shoulders of a young man as he led her to an open bed. Her left arm was bandaged at the bicep and held in a sling against her chest.<p>

Rising from his chair in the corner, glad for a distraction from the permeating smell of blood, Roy crossed to them and tapped the orderly on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here."

Catching sight of his epaulets — and correctly interpreting the rank implied — the orderly saluted with a brisk 'Yes, sir!' then slipped past and disappeared.

"You didn't have to wait for me to get out of surgery," Hawkeye commented. "It was just a local anaesthetic and a pair of tweezers. Hardly even surgery at all."

"It's still good to know you're all right," he countered. "You came awfully close to . . . to . . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"To being one of the people I always see through my rifle scope," she finished dryly. "I'm aware of that. I appreciate your concern, Major."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Roy dug in his pocket. "Besides, I was looking for you anyway." He produced a small square package wrapped in plain brown paper and held it out to her. "This came with mail call today; just in time, too."

Hawkeye studied the package suspiciously, then glanced carefully around the ward. None of the other patients were awake or paying attention."I'm sorry, sir, I can't accept favours from a higher-ranked officer in the chain of command."

"You're not taking it from an officer," he said, continuing to hold it out. "It's from a friend."

Smiling slightly at the technicality, Hawkeye finally reached out and lifted the little box from his palm. Setting it in her lap, she undid the string holding the paper closed, extricating the little box inside. Roy reached over to help her open it, then watched as her eyes widened at the contents.

"They're beautiful," she said, giving a rare, full smile. She touched one thumb to the plain silvery stud earrings inside. "Thank you."

"Didn't think you'd want anything too fancy," Roy muttered, standing and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Not out here in the middle of everything."

Hawkeye nodded, and closed the box, slipping it inside her sling. "Of course." She smiled again, knowingly this time. "Happy Solstice, Major."


End file.
